


Jump-start

by Elly_dk



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Depression, HP: EWE, Healing, M/M, POV Draco Malfoy, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 01:50:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12546128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elly_dk/pseuds/Elly_dk
Summary: I remember clearly the day my heart turned on again and the fog lifted.





	Jump-start

**Author's Note:**

  * For [phrynne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phrynne/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Name this story how you want](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12531532) by [phrynne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phrynne/pseuds/phrynne). 



> The always wonderful Phrynne wrote a beautiful story, because I told her, she could write about detergent, and I'd still love it. It was true, and it inspired this work.
> 
> And now the Phrynne also did me the big, big favor of betaing this for me, yay. She's the best. Just thought you all should know.

I guess I was in a bad place when the war ended. I just didn’t care anymore. I didn’t care about anything at all. 

It wasn’t fair to her. When our parents brought us together, I didn’t even consider arguing or rebelling against the marriage. Andneither did she. Maybe she thought I would learn to love her, grow into the relationship, like so many have done before us. Maybe she didn’t realise that I just followed along, shutting off my head and my heart. She probablyfigured thatout too late. We never talked about it. Or maybe she did ask me once. I don’t remember anymore. 

I can’t regret any of it though. 

When I look back on the first couple of years after the war, most of it is blank. Like I was sleepwalking. Like I was watching life play out for other people. I see those years in glimpses, like photographs from childhood. I’ve seen the pictures a million times and I feel like I should remember them, so when people ask, I recite what I’ve seen in the picture, but there are no emotions attached to it. I can’t recall my thoughts. I can only watch. 

I watch as Astoria and I walk down the path in the garden behind her parents’ summer home . 

I watch as my father screams incoherently when I leave Azkaban. 

I watch as my mother cries in the kitchen of our new home. 

I watch as Astoria tells me she’s pregnant. 

I watch as Astoria leaves. 

All I can do is watch.

I remember clearly the day my heart turned on again and the fog lifted.   
I wish I could say that it was the first time I held my son, but it wasn’t. Astoria had left me a year before, taking him with her. I don’t blame her. She was suffocating. I was suffocating her. Later, my mother came to see me with Scorpius. He was sitting on a chair in my study, trying to hold a quill between his pudgy toddler fingers, when he finally managed to draw a line across the paper, he looked up at me with a huge smile. He never smiled at me like that before; or maybe he did and I didn’t notice. 

It was like a jump-start to my engine. 

I cried a lot the first couple of months after that. I apologized a lot too. Mostly to Scorpius, who was too young to understand. Astoria was graceful about it all. She always was very graceful.

It was my mother who suggested the move. An apartment in Muggle London, with room for Scorpius, room to start over. With room to breathe. That’s how I ended up here with Scorpius, shopping for groceries like any other parent. How very Muggle of me. I don’t know why I turn around, maybe I can feel his eyes on me.

“Potter?”

“Malfoy.”

Scorpius looks past me.

“I’m Scorpius. Are you Harry Potter?”

“Yes I am. it’s very nice to meet you, Scorpius.”

I’ve missed him. All the hate and anger, all the pain we caused each other, it all melts away. He is familiar. He is the second jump-start to my system in two years and I freeze. My thoughts stop, my body is stuck in place, a bottle of detergent still in my hand. 

“Are you really Harry Potter?”

Scorpius narrows his eyes.

“I really am.”

“My dad doesn’t know Harry Potter.”

“He did once.”

“Does my mum know you too ?”

“No, not really. We all went to the same school, though.”

“I knew that. I’m gonna go to Hogwarts too.”

“You’ll love it.”

“Do you want to see my room?”

Scorpius beams at Harry and starts to pull at my sleeve. I’m still just standing there, like an oaf. 

“Can Harry Potter come and see my room?”

I know I have to speak now, but I can’t. My heart is beating so fast that I’m sure it’ll split open my frozen body. I want to say yes. I desperately want him to see my room too . He is looking at me, and it occurs to me that he is waiting for an answer. He is not trying to excuse himself, saying things like ‘that’s sweet of you, Scorpius, but I really have to go home now’. He is just looking at me, waiting. 

“Sure he can Scorp, if he wants to.”

For a second, I want to hit myself for misinterpreting the situation. Of course Harry Potter does not want to come to my home. I want to take it back, say something snide, sarcastic or condescending, grab Scorpius and run. For a second, I think I’m the only one who’s changed. But I’m not.

“I’d love to .”

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't read it yet - go read Phrynnes "Name this story how you want", which is the basis for this one.  
> Thank you for reading.  
> /Elly


End file.
